


A Ghost of a Chance

by Gnilnim27



Series: Darkling He Waits [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha!Percival, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega!Credence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnilnim27/pseuds/Gnilnim27
Summary: Non-magical alpha/omega AU. Percival Graves is perfectly contented with his single alpha status. That is until he stumbles upon a young omega going through his first heat.





	1. Chapter 1

Waking up for Credence had never been difficult, he was usually up before the sun even rose. Dressed and down the stairs right at the moment Ma was up. That gave him a good 15 minutes head start in whatever chore that was listed first for the day. Credence was only ever late once and Ma made sure that he was never late again.

Today, Credence had to practically fight his eyelids to open. Consciousness was a thing that crept back into his mind in stages bit by bit. It felt like layers of fog were being peeled back. His eyes registered the vague shape of a fallen lamp on his bedside table. 

He blinked as he tried to force his eyes to cooperate. The image of the lamp swam into focus, even tilted on its side, Credence could tell that it was expensive. It had metallic lace embedded along its fringes. Credence blinked once, twice and then several more times. 

He tried not to panic as the realization that this was most certainly not his room begin to settle in like a dead weight on his chest. He needed to get out and find out where he was, he thought as he rose out of the bed quickly only to find himself landing in a heap of limbs on the floor. He could feel the plush carpet on all of his body, which wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all.

There was a deep long groan from the bed. Credence whimpered as the tears begin to swell up in his eyes. Ma had been so right. He was a sinner, born from a sinner as a sinner. It became harder and harder to breathe. He was dying. He was sure of it, he was a terrible sinner and now God had struck him down.

******

The scent of distress cut through the warm pleasantness of Percival’s dream like a knife, a sharp acidic scent that burnt his nose and made his heart race. He groaned as he rolled out of his bed. Stilled bleary eyed and not quite conscious, blindly seeking to sooth away the panicked scent.

He draped his body across the quivering back beneath him and pushed his nose to the neck as he massaged the bonding glands at the pale neck under his hand.

“Breathe,” he murmured against too warm skin, still feverish, not quite settled he distantly noted. The breaths were deeper despite its shakiness but the body beneath him still shook like a leaf in the wind. 

Percival sighed into dark hair, mostly awake now. “Come here,” he said gently as he lift the boy up and cradled the boy to his chest, careful to let his head rest against the crook of his own shoulder where his scent glands were. 

As he rubbed the boy’s back, he could feel nearly every knob of the younger man’s spine and if he cared to he could trace every ridge of his ribs. It made anger coil up within him. There was a meek whimper and Percival was immediately flooded with a regret for adding to the distress. 

He looked down at the bundle of nerves in his arms and for the first time he really looked at the boy. Under the bedraggled black hair were long lashes that rest against pale cheeks, framed by dark strong brows that even while in rest seemed to arc in a mournful way. He had struck Percival as a sad soul when he first saw him, huddled and hunched into himself like he were trying to disappear or turn invisible. 

Under his hands, the boy’s breathing evened out into a slow steady pace. Percival looked down at the boy amused, it would appear that he had panicked himself into exhaustion and had drifted off into sleep. Careful not to jostle his sleeping companion, Percival reached over to his bed, pulling the duvet down around them. 

****** 

When Credence was younger, when it was just him and Chastity, he remembered that there were times when Ma would touch him in a way that felt a lot like love. No one had touched him that way for the longest time. 

Thus, to wake to such a touch was jarring. He wanted to lean into the touch and drink in the affection but he also wanted to pull away from it because of how alien it felt against his skin. The decision was taken away from him as one broad hand pressed down firmly but gently against his back. Which brought to attention the nakedness of his body and more pressingly, of the one flushed against him.

Not daring to open his eyes, Credence struggled for the appropriate thing to say. He was trained to be polite and when he couldn’t be polite, he was trained to say nothing. What resulted from this turmoil was a strangled sound from somewhere within his throat. God, he was pathetic, he sounded like a dying bat. 

“Take it easy,” a very authoritative, very male voice said as the hand on him stroked up and down his spine. 

Credence immediately felt the need to comply. He forced himself to relax but found that he couldn’t. Their position, him resting on this man’s front, between his legs, with the latter’s flaccid member pressed against his belly was just too much for him.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” he stammered out, he has push himself up slightly but kept his head bowed and his eyes shut.

The hand on his back froze in its motions. There was a deep and low growl that vibrated from the chest beneath him and through his body. It made Credence want to shrink into himself more.

Then there was a sigh and the growling stopped. The hand on his back continued to stroke him but in smaller motions now. There was a long strace of silence where the only that the could be heard in the room was the sound of their breaths. Credence couldn’t shake the feeling that he had done something very wrong and a good thrashing was on its way. 

“Would you like some food?” asked the man, his voice was quieter and measured. It lacked much of the confidence of before which was the strangest thing. 

“I would like my clothes,” Credence mumbled, still squeezing his eyes shut. At this point he didn’t know why he was doing it, he only knew that it made him feel better. 

There was a huff, the breath tickled the fringe of his hair. There was a growing tenseness to the body beneath him. “Alright, I’ll get you clothes but will you look at me when we speak?”

Credence opened his eyes, the sight of a bare chest before him made him want to shut them again but he didn’t dare disobey. 

“You’re still aren’t looking,” the man said, he sounded concerned and Credence wondered why would he be. 

“I am,” Credence replied, softly. His breath was coming up short again and he like-like he might just burst from the pressure.

“Unless my face is on my belly, you’re not,” the voice teased.

Credence was used to being teased, used to be mocked. He felt so much blood rush to his fact that he might burst from all the anger and the embarrassment. In a rare strike of defiance, Credence looked up to say something, anything back to his tormentor. 

He looked up and whatever it was he had to say died in his chest, a sad hollow death of an unfulfilled purpose. In front of him, were the darkest eyes whose stare felt like they were taking him apart piece by piece and turning each piece round. If that were that case, Credence feared that he might never be put back again.

“A-Ah,” he said, his mouth making sounds but his brain had long departed the realm of linguistics and meaning. 

The man before him smiled. It made the sides of his eyes crinkle in a way that made his stomach feel hot in its core. The strange man ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair as he sighed again. 

“I’ll get you some clothes and in the meantime,” he said as he gripped the back of his neck and spoke into his ear. “Do remember to breath,” he said and with that, he got up and Credence slid to the side like a sack of potatoes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Update at last! Sorry for the wait!

Credence could feel the heat in his cheeks and the sweat on his back that threatened to stick the white cotton shirt he was wearing to his skin. The food smelled delicious but his raw nerves made eating a task as he struggled to ignore the feeling of his skin being too tight for his body.

There was an emptiness that made his chest tighten, an emptiness that before used to fill him with fear and dread as his fingers shook around the small packet of pills that would be his salvation. One packet per an impending cycle, no more no less. Now, the emptiness made him ache to be filled.

A small gasp escaped his lips as he remembered rain moist lips against his and cool hands under his shirt. His eyes fluttered shut as knife and fork slipped from his fingers. The sound of them landing on the plate in soft clinks drew him from the fog that had begun to cloud his mind. 

He looked up at Mr Graves, mortified at his lack of control. The latter looked back at Credence with a slight frown between his brows as he set in his dark green robe and silk pajamas pants, immaculately put together seemingly unaware of Credence’s plight. 

A mixture of emotions rolled in Credence’s chest like a dark bulbous cloud. There was a pang of jealousy for how unaffected the alpha appeared to be and a pinch of annoyance. He wanted to throw himself out of the window to escape his embarrassment but he also wanted to crawl into the older man's lap and feel his strong hands on his hips. 

Credence had been so distracted by his state of emotions he hadn’t realised he had bit his lips bleeding till he felt calloused pad of a thumb swipe gently across the bottom of them. 

“Your heat will be starting up again soon,” Mr Graves said as he gently held Credence's chin in his hand. A shaky breath escaped him, forced from Credence’s lungs as he parted his lips. The older man leaned over Credence’s seated from, his dark eyes almost black before stepping back and drawing his fingers away.

Credence watched curiously as the alpha coughed and stood in the middle of the kitchen looking anywhere else but at him. It looked a lot like awkwardness but Mr Graves in his perfect hair cut and ramrod straight back could hardly be a subject of such a thing, at least not in Credence’s eyes.

“Does it get easier?” he asked as he watched the older man pull a silver cigarette case from his robe pocket.

“I suppose it does with familiarity,” he said, pulling a white stick out and tapping its end against the case. He toyed with it a moment longer before saying in an almost dismissive manner, “I wouldn’t know.”

Credence frowned as he watched Mr Graves place the cigarette between his lips. The alpha produced a slick silver lighter that appeared to match the case. He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, the ember at the end burning brightly. 

It didn’t smell anything like what Credence was familiar with. He frowned slightly as his mind ran through his memory of scents. Perhaps it was something so expensive and exclusive that it was a rarity, Credence could easily imagine Mr Graves having access to such things. 

“It takes the edge off my rut,” the alpha explained, confirming Credence’s suspicions that it might not be tobacco at all. 

“Why?” Credence asked and wondered if omegas had something like that. Something that would make him feel less hot, his skin less foreign and mind clearer.

“So that I don’t hurt you,” Mr Graves said as he walked to the kitchen window, pushing it open slightly with one hand as he held his cigarette with his other, smoke floating out into the grey morning air. 

*****

Percival hardly ever needed to rely on any sort of any other medication aside from his rut suppressants, which like omega suppressants, he took a week before his impending rut. Percival considered himself to be well in tuned with his body. He listened to it and he controlled it with will of steel.

He was pushing 40 and was still unmated. People who worked with him called him a robot, the omegas he spurned called him defective and his parents didn't call him anymore. He had entered into rut a handful of times in his youth, each time with a different partnership which he never saw again after and that was his preferred engagement if he engaged at all.

Percival liked being in control, but as he smoked his fag nearly down to the filter, he found it frying despite his best efforts. He was achingly hard and painful aware of the growing scent of cinnamon and nutmeg in the air. He wanted to pin the boy onto the kitchen counter and rut him then and there, leave him marked for the world to see that he was claimed.

He ought to be gentle, he wanted to be gentle and patient. He wasn't gentle the evening he held Credence’s face in his hands and kissed him in the streets. He wasn't gentle when he peeled the wet clothes off his shivering frame and pushed him onto his bed. He wasn't patient when he sank his cock into the boy, greedy to hear the moans from cherry red lips.

There was the sound of a kitchen chair scraping on the wooden floor. Percival turned to see the young omega standing up on shaky legs, his eyes blown black and his cheeks beautifully flushed. It stuck a kind of awe in Percival.

“I think, I need you,” Credence said, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table.

“Of course, darling,” Percival, stubbing his cigarette on the window’s ledge before moving towards his omega with blood pounding in his head like a battle drum and fire in his veins.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely lovely comments! They have filled my heart with joy. We are now at the final part which is me just indulging myself <3

Mr Graves kissed with the force of a storm, powerful and filled with unspoken dark promises that sent a shiver through Credence’s too hot body. He commanded and Credence obeyed, he led and Credence was all but helpless to follow.

When Graves kissed his skin and traced the fading wounds that littered his body, it felt so much like worship that Credence let small whimpers and cries escape. They touched and moved against each other slower than the first time, less teeth and more lips with much less pulling and pushing and more gentle caresses. 

Credence could feel Graves tightly coiled control slipping as all but devoured his mouth, nipping slightly at his lower lip, leaving them red and glistening.

“You are beautiful,” Graves said, his eyes dark with desire as his fingers trailed against the smooth skin of Credence’s inner thighs. 

Credence felt himself flush under the attention, strange that he should feel this way when his legs part not for the first time for this man. He turned to look away but Graves wouldn’t let him him. The alpha brought his hand to hold Credence’s face as if he were something delicate and very dear. 

“I wish you could see yourself that way I see you,” he said, kissing Credence on the temple, an oddly chaste gesture that made Credence blush further. Here he lay in Graves’s soft warm bed, the alpha’s cock resting swollen and heavy against his hip, and yet he was ignoring his needs in favour of laying gentle quiet praises upon Credence.

Credence wasn’t sure what to do with it, he wasn’t used to attention like this. No one at the home looked at him like he was the center of their existence. It made him want to turn and bury his head in the pillows. He almost prefered if Graves simply took what he wanted. 

Graves captured his lips again in a deep kiss, his tongue demanding entrance and Credence surrendered to him as he let his thighs fall further apart. Graves moved against Credence and he let out a choked off cry at the push of Graves’s cock against his slick hole. The stretch sated some kind of hunger that he never knew he had -- it knocked the breath out of his lungs.

They moved as one, slow then faster and harder. Credence was more aware this time around. He rolled his hips as Graves drove into him hard and fast. The alpha grip on his hip and thighs was sure to leave bruises and it already hurt, but the pain only served to drive Credence to a higher plane.

They spiraled higher and higher, breaths mingling together and bodies intertwined, not knowing where one began and the other ended. They reached a peak and Credence’s cry filled the room as Graves shuddered above him, his knot swelling and locking their bodies in place. 

When he could breathe again, Credence felt like he had died and was reborned. He felt light headed and unusually peaceful. Graves lowered himself slowly, laying half on top of Credence. A pained whimper escaped Credence lips at the tug of the knot inside his hole. He felt fingers trace gingerly where they were joined. 

“You’re alright,” Graves said, sounding relieved as he wrapped Credence’s slighter frame in an embrace. 

“Thank you, Mr Graves,” he murmured against the older man’s chest, Graves looked down at him, his lips moving but Credence had drifted off from the world, knowing that he was safe in the arms of one Mr Percival Graves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it best to end the first part here but I plan to make this a series to develop more of Credence's and Grave's blossoming relationship. Stick around!


End file.
